


Reborn

by sanctuary_for_all



Series: You Decide [1]
Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Feels, First Time, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctuary_for_all/pseuds/sanctuary_for_all
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that is old life is done, Marcus has only one desire of his new one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reborn

Marcus's life ended in defense of his men, as any true centurion's should. The news of his honorable discharge was merely a death announcement, one he had known was coming despite the blow it dealt. He could feel how he'd faded, the spaces inside him growing ever more hollow with each passing day. Soon he would be a ghost, haunting the halls of his uncle's villa until he melted into nothingness.

The last thing he had expected was to feel the weight of breath in his lungs, the pound of a living, beating heart against his ribs. He'd been stunned when both had come at the sight of a slave's face, brave even in the face of certain death. Defiant, even when the only victory he could claim was to cheat the audience of the sport they hungered for.

The pain of dead muscles wrenched into use was far sharper than the throb of his ruined leg. He'd braced himself against the onslaught, tried to fight, but there was no defense against those eyes. When the slave had fallen, the sword poised for the killing strike and the people screaming for his blood, he'd struggled to his feet before the intention had fully formed in his brain. The crowd could be swayed, if you shouted loud enough, and he poured every ounce of will he had left in urging the tide to turn.

He could feel the slave's anger from here, a warrior denied his rest. If he could communicate so eloquently with his eyes as the Briton, Marcus would tell him that he understood. Honor would never allow a man to beg for his life, but that didn't mean another couldn't take the blow for you. This moment would bring no shame on the slave's head.

Only when the arena echoed with life did the pressure in Marcus's chest finally ease. He heard his uncle's surprise, the question of why he had done such a thing, but to explain would have taken an understanding he did not yet possess. It was not until later, as they stood together in front of the funeral pyre, that he truly understood what he had experienced when he'd first looked into the other man's eyes.

That was the moment he had been reborn.

000

They made camp outside the city walls, sharing the work between them in a rhythm learned on the journey to Rome. Marcus had swallowed back more than one command, early on, the habit of a centurion as much or more than that of a slave owner. He'd been ashamed of the instinct, but Esca had simply given him an amused look that said he knew Marcus was slow and he was willing to be patient.

Tonight, those expressive eyes were merely watchful, as if he sought to read Marcus's thoughts in the slope of his shoulders and the line of his jaw. The delight he'd radiated earlier had faded, and Marcus wondered if Esca doubted his resolve to be free of this place.

He did not know how to tell him that he had never been more certain of anything. He had returned to Rome only to fulfill his final obligation to his father and the members of the cohort that Marcus himself had so briefly commanded. They had died so that the Eagle could return to Rome, and he had owed it to them to complete the task no matter how much his own heart had changed.

With that debt repaid, he was finally free of the last obligations of the man he had been. He could begin his new life clean, bound only by a silent oath to live and die at Esca's side.

He still had not found the words when they had settled in for the night. As their simple meal cooked over the campfire, Esca sat close enough to bump his shoulder against Marcus's. "Are you certain you don't want a say in where we're going?" The question was easy, without the doubt he'd been afraid Esca felt, and Marcus felt something inside him ease. "For all you know, I've a yearning for ice and snow."

Marcus smiled. "Then I shall wrap myself in furs and follow you." His mind flashed with a vivid image of the two of them keeping one another warm on a cold night, the yearning to touch Esca far sharper than he'd ever felt for another. Romans were taught that they should never feel this for one they saw as their equal, never seek affection or tenderness in the act at all, but when he looked at Esca that belief felt as hollow as everything else he'd left behind.

The choice, though, could never be his. Roman slave practices and Esca's own history would taint Marcus's touch, leave it impossible to be trusted even now. He could not risk Esca thinking that Marcus saw him as anything less than the glory that he was.

Esca must have seen something in Marcus's face, because his own expression turned solemn for a moment. "You are allowed to make new plans, when the old ones end," he said quietly, the gentle, concerned support in his voice better than touch would have been from another. "Find new dreams."

Marcus's throat tightened. "As are you." His hand half lifted, wanting to reach out, but he curled his fingers back into a fist and kept still. "What do you dream of, Esca?"

Something he could not begin to decipher flickered in the depths of the other man's eyes, for once too expressive for Marcus to catch all their meaning. Then it disappeared, replaced by resolve. "Hispania," he said after a moment. "The heat will be good for your leg."

"That is not a dream," Marcus protested, warmth spreading through him as he let himself nudge Esca's shoulder. "I want you to choose something for yourself, not something that you think will make my own days easier."

Esca's lips quirked upward. "I will hear you complain less. That is more than enough of a dream for me."

Marcus fought back his own smile. "You lie. I bear my suffering in heroic silence."

Esca's eyes danced with laughter. "I did not know that silence meant the opposite in the Roman tongue."

"You are imagining things." He let out a breath, humor leaving him so it would not betray the seriousness of his words. "I mean it, Esca. This time is yours."

Esca looked at him for a long moment, then his jaw tightened. "I do not dream anymore," he said finally.

Marcus felt the pain of it in his own chest, and he allowed his hand the release to hook around the back of Esca's neck in a firm grip. "Then we have time for you to learn. We have my funds and my uncle's gift to begin with, and after that we will find ways to earn our keep. I am not a centurion anymore, but I am far from useless."

He imagined that Esca leaned slightly into the touch, lips ghosting upward once again. His eyes were still on Marcus's. "Why?"

Marcus was powerless to answer with anything but the truth. "Because I would be a ghost, if not for you," he murmured, his heart borne on every word. "And my greatest wish is to see you live again as well."

Esca's brow lowered. "If this is about my returning for you...."

Marcus shook his head, throat tight. He could still feel Esca's grip on the back of his neck, the sureness of it as powerful as any oath. "I was near a shade when I saw you in that arena, but when I left it a heart beat in my chest and blood flowed through my veins. It was your eyes that chided me when I did not fight valiantly enough to regain my legs, your arm I gripped when my steps faltered. You who made me see that I knew nothing of devotion and honor, and who stood beside me endlessly patient as I fumbled towards understanding."

Esca had squeezed his eyes shut, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Marcus's. "That is not enough," he whispered.

"It is everything," Marcus rasped, powerless to stop no matter what the repercussions. "You saved me, and I will serve you all my life if only you would allow me to remain by your side."

There was a moment of stillness, not marred by even the sound of breath, and then the world fell away as Esca surged forward and caught Marcus's mouth in his. The kiss was wild, desperate, and Marcus was frozen for an instant in sheer disbelief before he melted with an eagerness that would have embarrassed him with anyone else. He let Esca's momentum carry them backwards, fingers tunneling through soft hair as his other hand curled around Esca's back to pull him closer.

Esca shifted, pressing a thigh between his, and a needy sound tore from Marcus's throat as he arched into it. He burned with holy fire, the blaze inside him far more than any of his previous couplings had ever inspired.

They broke apart to force air back into their lungs, Esca's breath harsh against his neck. "You," Esca whispered into his skin, as if confessing a sin. "I dream of you."

Marcus's eyes stung. "I am yours," he whispered back, his oath finally given voice. "I want nothing more than that."

Then their lips met again, and when their voices ran out they let their bodies speak the words of their hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my weekly posts and original short fiction on my [blog](http://jennifferwardell.blogspot.com) or say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://sanctuaryforalluniverses.tumblr.com)!


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